


Fucking Like Rabbits (and Hamsters and Kittens and Fish and Snakes)

by larryinwords



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pet Store, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Because they always get the most attention, Blow Jobs, Canon Gay Relationship, Clumsy Harry, Cute Ending, Cute Louis, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fondling, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Humor, I'm going to use smut tags, Love, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Humor, Touching, and even though he's got an animal in mind, he could have asked for, he ends up with a human friend that better than anything, larry stylinson - Freeform, louis wants a friend, pet store owner harry, so he goes to harry's store to find one, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:41:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryinwords/pseuds/larryinwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Louis chastises, turning his head to the side to look the man in the eyes. What he sees startles him, and, if you want him to tell the truth, makes him a bit hungry: wide, reproachful emerald eyes and pink lips. Pink like Pepto-Bismol, or, in a more appetising description, cotton candy. Yum. (To the cotton candy, of course. Louis had to drink some Pepto-Bismol when he ate a rotten piece of shrimp, and it was most definitely not yum.)</p><p>And they're close, so close; Louis can smell the coffee on his breath… salted caramel, he guesses, with a few creamers and no sugar. They're close enough for Louis to notice the flecks of gold in those green eyes, close enough for them to kiss. Luckily, Louis doesn't; instead, he leans foreword a little more, like he's going to, but that's totally on accident and not something he means to do just so this handsome man can begin to sweat. Totally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Like Rabbits (and Hamsters and Kittens and Fish and Snakes)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very lax attempt at writing some sort of humour or lightheartedness so please tell me what you think and whether or not you think i'm good at it ????

"I need a friend," Louis announces gallantly upon entering the pet shop, having (quite literally) thrown the glass door open. It kind of slams into a few empty bird cages, but he disregards it. He needs to make an Entrance; Louis Tomlinson _always_ makes a huge, dramatic Entrance. He supposes having to bring out the slender man behind the counter to pick up the cages is as good as an Entrance as any. 

"Sorry 'bout that," Louis says as he stands behind the crouched man, watching as he attempts to restack the cages (of which were already precariously arranged before). His tone suggests he's anything but, and so does the little giggle he can't keep in when the cages fall over again. There's a crash and an exasperated sound from the employee who'd made them fall with his clumsy, oafish hands, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

"Oh, here," he tuts, kneeling on the floor. He places the bigger of the three cages on the bottom, then the round one next to it. On top goes the smallest one, creating a bird-cage pyramid-- one that won't fall unless he decides to come in on a prolonging time and make yet another Entrance. Maybe someone will want three birds before then and he won't have to go out of his way to knock them over when that day arrives. 

Look at him, already planning ahead. 

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Louis chastises, turning his head to the side to look the man in the eyes. What he sees startles him, and, if you want him to tell the truth, makes him a bit hungry: wide, reproachful emerald eyes and pink lips. Pink like Pepto-Bismol, or, in a more appetising description, cotton candy. Yum. (To the cotton candy, of course. Louis had to drink some Pepto-Bismol when he ate a rotten piece of shrimp, and it was most definitely not yum.) 

And they're close, so close; Louis can smell the coffee on his breath… salted caramel, he guesses, with a few creamers and no sugar. They're close enough for Louis to notice the flecks of gold in those green eyes, close enough for them to kiss. Luckily, Louis doesn't; instead, he leans foreword a little more, like he's going to, but that's _totally_ on accident and not something he means to do just so this handsome man can begin to sweat. Totally. 

"Hmm," he hums, breathing out a little bit before standing up and surveying the store. "Yes, I do believe this is the perfect place for me to find a new friend." He cranes his neck around to get another glimpse of this gorgeous man, and is pleased to see that he's still on the floor, only he's looking his way instead of at the cages. He's either mesmerised by Louis' beauty or frightened by him, and Louis would be fine with both.

"Don't you?" 

Green Eyes smiles a smile to put all other smiles to shame (even Louis', which he will never admit to anyone but himself), then runs one of his oaf hands through his long, curly hair. Louis thinks the hair makes up for the hands and his eyes make up for the clumsiness. 

"Depends on the kind of friend you're looking for," he says smoothly, voice low (and slow) as the deepest part of the sea. Louis approves. "Though I think we'll be able to assist you with all and any kinds." 

Yes, Louis knows that the man is speaking of the wide selection of pets at the store, but he decides to accept the (possibly nonexistent) innuendo regardless. It's the polite thing to do. 

After observing the man on the ground for a few seconds more, Louis holds his hand out so the lad can grasp it. He'd been planning on pulling him up, and he assumes the man had thought he'd do the same thing, but what really happens is him getting halfway there and then falling right onto his rear again. Louis very nearly joins him on the ground. See, Green Eyes is tall; like, _tall_ tall. And Louis hadn't noticed said height when he'd been on the floor, hadn't noticed those gangly legs and that long torso and firm body. Louis is considerably short, so him attempting to pull up that attractive fucking beanstalk wasn't a very good idea on his part. 

"Sorry!" He exclaims, actually feeling embarrassed for the man on the floor (once again). It's his fault, anyway, that the guy is sitting there with a red face, and since it isn't something Louis'd intended to happen, he's guilty and blushing and apologetic. "Sorry, sorry sorry! You're, like, a tree, and I'm short, and it was hard to pull you up, and your hands are really quite large, too, so that surprised me, and, like, yeah?" He's sheepish now, cheeks warm and eyes trailing to his own feet. This isn't the first impression he'd intended for the man to remember, and now he's mad at himself for making it that way.

"'S all right," Green Eyes murmurs, but Louis can tell it's not and he's either mortified or angry. Louis hopes it isn't either, hopes the man is one of those people that always sound either mortified or angry (even when they're not), yet the chances of that are slight and he kind of wants to rewind his life ten minutes and restart. 

Without thinking, he holds his hand out to try again, and the man looks at him with a raised eyebrow. His face is lovely, even lovelier when it's embarrassed than when it's not (his cheeks all red and his lips all pursed and his nose all crinkled), and Louis ponders if there's some sort of law that forbids a being so miraculous to be upset. 

"You really sure that's a good idea?" Green Eyes jokes (or snips; Louis can't tell if he's trying to be funny or trying to sneak an insult), then pushes himself up with a grunt. And, yup, he's tall. Tall enough to make Louis step back a smidgen in surprise. 

"That was something," the man comments, a bit more comfortable now, and Louis laughs. A tense laugh, because he's waiting for the goddess of beauty (Acropipey or whatever) to strike him with lighting for being rude to one of her best children, but it's a laugh nonetheless. 

"I didn't mean for that to happen," Louis insists, still wanting the man to be sure. "Honest, I'm just really not that strong and I suppose I bit off more than I can chew because you _look_ really strong and someone not strong trying to pick up someone bodybuilder-strong isn't necessarily easy... though you don't look like a bodybuilder, I was just kidding about tha-" 

"Hey," Green Eyes cuts in soothingly, sounding much more confident and graceful compared to Louis' babbling. "It's okay. I know you didn't do that on purpose; you don't need to convince me." He's looking down at Louis, straight into his eyes, and Louis grows hot and sweaty and jumpy. 

"It's fine, yeah? No more apologies." 

Louis nods, swallowing thickly, repeating what the man said in his mind. No more apologies. He won't, he won't allow himself to, because apologising again would be a death sentence to his self-confidence. No more apologies. 

"You're a giant," Louis informs the man after a minute of uncomfortable silence, even more shyly than before. The words are said softly, directed to the man's chest, and Louis wonders if he'll have to repeat himself. 

"Pardon?" The man asks, cocking his head to the side and pursing his lips. Now, if he'd just stay like that, then Louis could tip his head the _other_ way and purse _his_ lips…

"Oh, nothing," Louis chirps, his bashful countenance melting away like butter at the idea of the opportunity. He bestows a significantly-less-dazzling smile than the one the man had priorly shown off, humming to himself. "Was just thinking of what kind of..." His eyes flit to the nearest caged animal. "What kind of _snake_ I want to get."

Green Eyes raises an eyebrow, looking at the coiled corn snake in the cage Louis had previously glanced at. "You want a snake?" He asks dubiously, as if he couldn't imagine Louis with one. Bah! Louis'll show him. 

"Yes," he says confidently. Jutting his chin out, he adds, "Anything wrong with that?" 

The man seems frazzled and amused, like he can't quite understand the creature in front of him and he's wondering if there's a book on him for sale (along with the Dogs for Dummies and How to Own a Cat books). 

"No, not at all," Green Eyes says, curling the corner of his lip up at Louis. "Corn snakes are the most common pet snakes, like Shiny here." He gestures to a yellow-orange snake sitting coiled in a tank. Louis shivers. The snake's eyes are beady and red; it'd be more intimidating if the thing wasn't only about two feet long 

"Would you like to hold him?" 

Louis is too busy thinking about how fucking ridiculous a name like Shiny is for a snake (and also how beautifully Shiny the man's eyes are) to process the bloke's words, and he's saying yes before he understands what's happening. Next thing he knows, the man has Shiny in his hands, and then Shiny is in _Louis'_ hands, and, like, he does the rational thing anyone would do in this situation. 

He squeals. 

Louis isn't prissy, necessarily; he's not obnoxiously iffy about amphibians and bugs like some people are, but it's a goddamned _snake_ and he just came here for a fucking /bunny/ or something and now he wants to  
 _die_. 

Green Eyes is grinning now, and Louis can tell he never really gets that many people in his store. Louis is a gift, obviously. Not like he didn't know that before. 

"What's wrong?" Green Eyes asks, furrowing his eyebrows like he's genuinely confused and worried. "I thought you liked snakes!" 

Louis contemplates strangling the man with the squirmy snake that's in his hand, but he decides against it. He doesn't need to be almost convicted of another felony. 

The snake feels incredibly strange to Louis; at first glance, his skin look wet, but when he touches it he realises that it's not. It's dry as his own flesh. And there's a throbbing sensation underneath the snake, like a thousand hearts beating in unison, and it makes Louis' hand feel like he's holding a vibrator or something silly like that. 

"I think Dick would have been a better name for this snake," Louis says, completely serious. Then Green Eyes _laughs_ , and its a devastatingly wonderful laugh, because Louis wants to be mad at him for being so _mean_ , but he can't, since he's never heard a laugh quite like this one; it's thick and sincere and captivating, the billowy smoke that comes out from a chestnut wood fire or chocolate syrup on a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Louis pouts his lips up like he's about to cry, and he thinks he might, but then the snake curls around his wrist. Instead of beginning to wail, he lets out a startled "Oh!", trying his hardest not to make a fist and accidentally squeeze the animal. 

"Get it off," he says, holding his hands out expectantly. As an afterthought, he adds a feeble "Please,", but only because he's _certain_ that this man is the type of person to ask, "What do you say?" when rudely given a command and Louis does /not/ want to hear that. 

With another snicker and a wipe to his teary eyes, Green Eyes scoops up the snake and gently places him back into his cage. He does it so tenderly, like he's made for the snakes (Tarzan or something... Yes, Louis can picture that: the man's all long locks, tall legs and he's _surely_ got a six-pack underneath his shirt), and he regards the thing with more care than he had to Louis. Louis is astonished. 

"Well!" He sighs, placing a hand on his chest. "I've had my heart attack for the day." 

"It's a snake," the man murmurs, not quite understanding what the boy in front of him is so perturbed about. _He_ liked snakes well enough. "It's a _snake_."

"Yes," Louis says, blinking. "Your point is? I'd rather touch something _really_ gross than a snake. A fish or summat." 

"What's wrong with fish?" The man rebounds, eyes wide. Like Louis has somehow offended him by insinuating that fish weren't pleasant to touch. Louis is growing exasperated. 

"Oh, nothing," Louis says, shaking his head and waving his hand around. "Nothing, nothing, nothing. You're hopeless." 

Hopelessly beautiful, Louis thinks, but that last detail doesn't need to be spoken aloud at the moment. Or ever, really, because when he thinks about it, it's a very cheesy and embarrassing thing to have even thought. Forget it, that didn't happen and you don't know that Louis thinks Green Eyes is hopelessly beautiful. You also don't know that Louis can be very un-witty sometimes. 

"Right, then," the man says, looking a bit dazed as he guides Louis away from the snake's tank. "What are you _really_ looking for? A kitten? Dog, hamster, bird?"

"What's your name?" Louis asks in return, having seen no name tag on the man's violet polo shirt. There's also not a name tag on the crotch of his khakis. Louis checked there, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. 

When the man doesn't say anything and seems a bit confused as to why he's being asked (he's just an employee, after all), Louis hurries to say, "You're not wearing a name tag, is all, and I was just curious." The excuse is hardly a good one, but Louis doesn't care. He should be allowed to ask the man's name without feeling stupid about it. 

"Harry," Green Eyes says, and Louis thinks he just might like Green Eyes better. But then he says his last name, which is _Styles_ , and it's all so pretty and amazing and a name fit for royalty. Louis _loves_ it, he really does, and he tries not to smile quite too fondly upon hearing it.

"Interesting," He says back, looking straight into Harry Styles' captivating green eyes. After a moment of silence and unashamed staring, he sighs. "I suppose you're not going to ask me what _my_ name is, so I'll have to tell you without the invitation. I'm Louis." 

Harry holds out his hand for Louis to shake, and Louis takes it, making sure to hold his palm tight enough to let him know he's interested but loose enough to let him know he still likes to be dominated in bed.

"Okay, Louis," Harry says. "What type of friend do you want?" 

Louis taps his chin with his index finger, roaming around the pet store. It's a decent-sized place, with cream linoleum floors and blue walls. The cages and tanks are placed neatly around the borders of the front of the store, with the bags of feed and books on how to care for the pets more towards the back. In the front corner sits the check-out counter of which Harry had been seated on a stool behind, collars and "Petcessories" (Louis is certain that Harry had come up with the name) placed carefully inside the glass display. 

"Those are cute," Louis comments, bending down and pressing his nose against the glass section of the counter that the small dog mittens and hats were placed. "Even though its not really cold out right now." 

Louis can see Harry grin at his position in the reflection of the glass, and he blushes and stands up straight again. 

"Usually you want a dog before getting a costume for one," Harry says sensibly, and Louis pulls a face. 

"I was just looking," he defends, but Harry's already showing him to the area centre of all the pets. 

"Take your pick," he offers, making a big gesture with his arm at all the tanks and cages. There's whines and scrabbling and bangs and all other cute little pet sounds. Louis wants them all.

"Give me a moment," he tells Harry, who nods solemnly like this is a _life and death_ situation and retreats back to his perch behind the counter. 

*** 

"A hamster," Harry Styles says with disdain as Louis points to the cute little hamster running with his cute little feet on the cute little wheel. "You want a hamster." 

"Isn't he adorable?" Louis asks, poking his finger through the bars of the cage. He can't quite reach the hamster, and he frowns, but leaves his finger there nonetheless. 

"Sure," Harry says, picking up the cage. He brings it over to the counter and sets it on the front, then goes behind and rings up the sale on the cash register. As he pushes in the buttons, he begins to talk about what kind of food Louis should get for the hamster and how often he should feed him said food, when to play with him, blah blah blah. Louis is much too busy staring dreamily into his eyes. He's a beautiful man, Louis decides, and its refreshing. He rarely sees truly beautiful people anymore. With the kindness of his smile, the angles of his face and the thickness of his hair, Louis has stumbled upon a real looker; the last thing he'd expected when he opened the door to a pet store. 

"What are you going to name him?" Harry asks as he scribbles out a purchase summary. There's a package of alfalfa and a book on training hamsters in a paper bag next to the cage. Louis had nodded to everything Harry said, too busy admiring to think, and created a thirty-pound sale for himself, including the hamster and the cage and the food and the book. Louis isn't sure whether to label this as smart shopping or not. 

"Fluffy," Louis responds absentmindedly, looking at the hamster's pink nose and brown fur. 

Harry stops writing and glances up at Louis, laughing softly at the simplicity of the answer.

"Original," he states, to which Louis says "Thank you,", like he doesn't quite grasp the cynical undertone of the adjective. And he doesn't, not really. He's no time for thinking when he's minutes away from leaving this store without a phone number or an email address or something to use to contact this beautiful man. 

But then Harry Styles says the most wonderful, _wonderful_ thing that causes Louis to _gleam_ when he leaves the store. 

"Why don't you come here in a few days?" Harry suggests casually. "Keep me informed on how you and Fluffy are doing?" 

And even though Louis is so happy at the idea that be could surely fly, he needs to seem disinterested and a little blasé. Nothing draws people in more than an attitude that says they don't care. 

"I dunno," he says, loaded up with his purchases. "Maybe." 

*** 

Louis returns to the store the very next day, alfalfa and book and cage and hamster in tow. The cage makes a loud, rickety slam when he drops it on the counter in front of Harry (who's wearing a lime green polo and Louis likes what he sees). Harry, having been intently reading a book, is startled at the sudden noise and jumps. He proceeds to gape when he gets a good look at Louis' face and right forearm, which are both littered with slivers of scratch marks and bites. Louis is embarrassed and annoyed and angry and possibly slightly in love. 

"What happened?" Harry asks dumbly, like there's some other possible reason for Louis' injuries than the (now not as) cute little hamster in it's cage on the counter. 

"All I did was pick him up," Louis blurts out, not wanting to be blamed for provoking the demonic creature. "It was in it's cage and poking it's nose against the bars and, like, it was _cute_ so I tried to pick him up." 

Harry turns around quickly and squats down, pretending to be rustling through some papers in the file cabinet behind the counter, but he must've forgotten that the counter is glass and Louis can very clearly see his shoulders shake and the way his hands are pressed against his mouth. 

"Are you _laughing_ at me?" He screeches, feeling betrayed, ridiculed, and, worst of all, _stupid_.Louis is a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them, and it's something that he actually takes offence to upon being called. 

Immediately, Harry pops up again, reminding Louis of a whack-a-mole. When Louis thinks about it, he realises that, yeah, he wouldn't mind giving Harry a hit on the head with a hammer. 

"Of course not!" He exclaims, as if the suggestion is unbelievable; how _dare_ Louis even think about that! His eyes are playful but his expression serious, and Louis would be a lot angrier at him if he didn't act so fucking _sincere_ and _genuine_.

So instead of storming out of the store and making a melodramatic Exit (to make up for the lack of his Entrance), he just frowns and says, "Good. I wouldn't be laughing at _you_ if a hamster left you bleeding and near death."

This seems to strike Harry, for some reason, and the humour leaves his eyes in replace of a look Louis can't quite define. "That's nice of you," he says, without joking, and Louis' face grows hot. 

"I know," he says. 

It's quiet in the store, save the scrabbling of the hamster and the noises of all the other animals, and Louis feels at peace. He's known this man for only a day, but he feels easy with him. Comfortable, he supposes.

"Well," Harry says, regaining a businessman order. He'd been leaning on the counter with his elbows, but he straightens himself up now, approaching the cash register. "You want to return it, then?" 

"And the book and the falfelfa," Louis says, pushing the two items (still in their Happy Pets Pet Store bag) over the counter so they're closer to Harry. 

"Alfalfa," Harry corrects, a smile pulling at his lips, and Louis rolls his eyes. He doesn't respond. 

"I can't give it back to you for full price," he tells Louis, looking almost troubled at the fact. "Ten percent off the initial subtotal. Store policy." 

Louis doesn't give too much of a fuck, although he doesn't think that's fair. He'd only had the hamster for a day, after all, and both the book and the alfalfa were unopened. (Louis had thought the alfalfa pellets looked rather disgusting and opted to give the hamster some white bread and cheese. Look at the thanks he got for that.) Not to mention the injuries he sustained in the short time he'd owned it. 

"'S okay," he says with a small shrug, listening to Harry press the buttons on the register. "Can you make it store credit or something?" 

Harry pauses. "Of course," he allows. "But are you sure you want another pet?" 

Now, Louis takes this as a challenge, and a bit of an insult. Just because he doesn't have much luck with snakes or hamsters doesn't mean he's incapable at owning an animal. So he puffs out his chest and nods, like a hero accepting a quest or someone getting ready for a brawl. 

"Obviously. Didn't I say I wanted a friend?" 

Harry makes a _you'll-regret-this_ sort of face that only make Louis more eager to succeed, and he slams his fist on the counter. Harry's head jolts up from it's tilt towards the cash register at the sudden noise, and his face scrunches up. "What was that for?" He demands. 

Louis removes his hand from where it is on the counter and instead clasps it with the other behind his back, smiling sweetly at Harry. "Nothing. I'm just getting into the spirit." 

"Of what?" Harry asks, confused. 

Louis pauses, thinking of what it is he's getting angry about, then says, "Defying you." 

Harry raises an eyebrow at Louis and sputters out a laugh. "You're weird," he tells Louis, simple like a child, and Louis grins. 

"Thank you." 

Once Louis' store credit was in order, the malicious hamster was placed back on the shelf and the book and food were back in their original places, he and Harry stand in front of the array of pets. "What is it that you want?" Harry asked. "Anything in particular? You didn't give me much to work with yesterday." 

Louis ponders this for a moment, then says, "It should be soft. I want to be able to cuddle with it." Instantly after saying this, he blushes, regretting letting something like that out, but Louis sees a twinkle in Harry's eyes. Almost a fond thing. 

"I understand that," he says, voice gentle and serious, and Louis nibbles nervously on his lip when his arm brushes against Harry's. 

The second of bliss passes, however, for Harry leaves his side to approach a large cage where small kittens are playing with each other. Louis notices them and coos, thinking they're just about the most adorable thing he's ever seen. They're old enough to do more than bump into each other, and they leap around the cage, meowing and purring and hissing.

"They're very well-behaved," Harry says, picking up a black one with a white stripe on the tip of it's tail. It pushes it's head against Harry's chest, kneading it's claws into his arms, and Louis wants to cry because it's so _cute_ and he wishes _he_ could push his head into Harry's chest and hold onto his arms. 

The kitten mewls, causing Louis to do the same thing, and Harry smiles. "They won't scratch you up." 

Louis' eyes drift to the marks on his arm, and he can tell Harry's doing the same thing. A little apprehensive, he asks, "Promise?" 

Harry scoops the kitten into one arm so that the other is free, and he reaches out to tenderly thumb at one of the smaller of the scratches on his arm, one that's already scabbed over. He meets Louis' gaze, still pressing down on the cut, and he says, "Promise." 

Louis believes him. 

And when he nods, something clicks in Harry's eyes. That click makes him let go, looking a bit dazed and maybe somewhat surprised. Louis dismisses the fact with the comfort that he feels exactly the same. 

"Want to hold her?" Harry asks, rubbing on the kitten's tiny head with his index finger. He handles her so well that Louis worries if he takes hold of her she'll end up exploding or something, but despite that, he nods his assent. She's warm, soft, cuddly; all the good things that kittens are supposed to be. Louis gets a little giggly and delirious because he loves kittens, almost as much as he loved how it looked when Harry was holding her, and this particular one doesn't seem to despise him like some (most). 

The kitten squirms, but when Louis presses his nose against her silky fur, she calms and meows. It's sort of irritated, the sound, like she's only going through with this because Harry wanted her to and she resents him now, but that's okay. In moderation, a cat can't stand to be in his arms, so this is above average. Louis is pleased. 

Harry's grinning, dimples popping and teeth fucking blinding Louis ( _what_ a show-off), who mirrors the expression. "She likes you," Harry observes, making Louis laugh softly. He thinks its true, the kitten really does like him, and he's never been happier about anything. 

"What's her name?" He asks, stroking the fur under her belly.

"Doesn't have one," Harry says. "Snakes and animals like Shiny aren't bought as often, so I name them. The kittens come and go as quickly as that." He snaps to demonstrate. 

"I wonder why _that_ is!" Louis says to the kitten, holding her out in front of him so her hind legs hang down. He uses a falsetto voice on the word he emphasised, and the kitten begrudgingly licks his nose, like a hungry person giving the last piece of pizza to someone else because they know it'll make them happy (but they're still _starving_ and the person who's getting the damn pizza is fucking lucky and should be nice to them forever). 

Louis laughs, a laugh that's light as air, and he doesn't notice the way Harry smiles at him. It's a different smile, a special smile, a where-the-fuck-did-someone-so-glorious-come-from sort of smile, and he looks down at his feet with the grin still on his face. When Louis looks at him, there's a smile there, but it's not _the_ smile. Harry's glad that he didn't catch _the_ smile, because _the_ smile would take a lot to explain. 

"You want her?" He prompts, and Louis eagerly nods before he's finished with his sentence. _The_ smile threatens to return to Harry's expression, so he spins around and goes behind the counter to the cash register in hopes to fight it down before he has to face Louis once more. 

"I think I'll name her Soot," Louis says to Harry, hopeful that he'll approve. "'Cause she's all black like the soot from a fireplace." 

"Or Cinder," Harry suggests, though he likes Louis' idea better. Maybe because it's Louis' idea. 

"Soot," Louis says again, and Harry reaches across the counter to pet at Cinder-Soot's head. 

"Yeah," he says, chuckling. "Soot." 

The kitten itself is cheap, because there's a lot of them in the store, but Louis needs a carrier and food. After talking it out with Harry, he gets a portable carrier and dry food from a medium-sized package, the kind that Harry describes as "poor food for cats". 

"I can get canned food," Louis says when Harry rings up the sale. "I don't need to feed Soot poor food." 

Harry shakes his head, bagging the food. "Canned food is more expensive, since you need to buy it more often, and besides, it usually makes cats spoiled and fat. Once you give 'em canned, they'll never eat dry food and you'll have _that_ problem your hands." 

Louis is quiet. He hadn't known that owning a cat would be so hard. "Thanks for telling me," he grants Harry, who hums. 

"Your store credit covers all but four pounds and twenty-three pence," he informs Louis, who digs through his wallet for the money. Harry, being the helpful person he is, takes the liberty to put Cinder-Soot in her carrier so Louis doesn't have to. He'd grown fond of the kitten, even though she'd only been in the store for about a week, so he plants a kiss to her nose before closing the door of the carrier. 

He looks up and sees Louis watching him with the cash in his hand, and laughs sheepishly. "I'll miss her," he says, and Louis glances towards the carrier. 

"Don't worry," he assures, taking both the carrier and bag in his hand. "I'll keep you updated." 

And Harry knows he will. 

*** 

It's a four days before Louis comes back into the store, unlike last time when it was only one. Harry finds himself looking foreword to seeing him, and when he flips the sign from open to closed each evening, he feels a little empty; void of his much-needed dosage of Louis. 

But Louis eventually flounces through the door, pushing it open when Harry's totalling someone else's sale up, and Harry notices that he has a carrier in his hand. He frowns, hands the woman her change and bags the bird seed she's purchasing, then gives her a smile and immediately turns his attention towards Louis. The boy looks genuinely upset, and Harry asks what's wrong as he comes out from behind the counter.

"I have to bring her back," Louis says softly, miserably. "I can't have her in my flat." His blue eyes are strayed to the floor, wide and sad, and Harry doesn't think when he puts his fingertip underneath his chin and tilts his head up so he can look straight at his face. His face- his smooth tan skin, thin pink lips and long eyelashes- is laden with despair. Harry hates it.

"And why's that?" He asks quietly. Louis swallows thickly, not wanting to speak in fear of Harry's touch leaving his chin, but he really should regardless. So he wraps his fingers around Harry's wrist and pushes it away from him, a long sigh dripping out from deep inside his belly. 

"She tore out my carpet last night," he confessed. "A part of it ripped right out from the floor. I don't think my landlord knows yet, but I'm going to be in _so_ much trouble when he does. I'll be lucky to not get kicked out." 

Harry's quiet, sympathising for the boy in front of him, then says, "You could get her declawed, if you want." 

Louis looks at him, serious and firm and disapproving. "Would you like it if someone ripped your fingernails out, one by one?" He asks, holding Cinder-Soot close to him as if to protect her from the mere idea. 

And that's the end of that. 

He seems so torn up about this that Harry feels horrid for him, and he gives Louis a hug (an action that is, once again, done without thinking), making a person-cat-person sandwich. Surprised, Louis says, "It's not too bad, Harry," but it really is and he's glad Harry knows it. (He's also glad that Harry's big, strong arms are around him, but he doesn't say anything. It'd probably be weird or something.) 

When Harry pulls away, he says, "I could take her home, if y'want. Keep her and tell you about what she's up to when you come in." 

This makes Louis light up like a bulb, and he nods. He's not sure whether he's happier about the fact that he'll still know what Soot is doing or about Harry giving him an invitation to see each other more, but he's mollified regardless. 

"You'd really do that for me?" He asks, and before Harry has a chance to respond, he grins and thanks him, seeming genuinely relieved. "I was so upset, Harry. We were going along fine until she tore out the carpet." 

"Naughty girl," he tells Cinder-Soot, who meows and licks at Louis' arm. She doesn't look too guilty about what she'd done, but Louis supposes that she hadn't liked it all that much in his small flat anyway. 

"You can have the carrier," he offers to Harry, placing Cinder-Soot inside it. "So you don't have to give me the return money and pay for it yourself. Soot, too." 

Harry begins to decline, because it was somewhere near a twenty-five pound sale and he can't ask Louis to give him that, but Louis cuts him off before he can get the first word out. 

"It's the least I can do," he says firmly, and he comes off as stern enough to make Harry shut his mouth and nod.

"You don't have to, you know," he tries after a moment. "I'm happy to take her home." 

And Louis grins, a cute Louis grin, responding with, "And I'm happy to have paid for her. It means she's still mine." 

Harry doesn't know how to argue with that. 

"Time to try again," Louis sings when Harry's put Cinder-Soot behind the counter and come out from behind it himself. "I'm thinking something easy this time. Like a lizard or a bird." 

"Birds aren't easy," Harry informs, too enamoured with Louis to argue on whether he should really try for another pet or not. "You'll need to take them out of their cage at least twice a week to give them room to fly, and it's hell trying to get them into it again." 

Louis pauses but is unabashed. "So no bird," he says. "But a lizard or a gecko or..." He passes a tank of colourful fish, and he stops to look at them. "A fish!" 

Harry sits atop the counter, getting _the_ smile on his face. "You told me you didn't like them," he says. 

"I said I didn't like _touching_ them, dummy," Louis tells Harry kindly, causing Harry to laugh out loud. And Louis gets a shiver, because its that laugh he's only heard once before-- the smokey laugh, the chocolate sauce laugh. _It's so warm_ , Louis marvels in his head. He wants to wrap himself up in it and sleep. 

"All right, all right. A fish. Fish are easy." 

"That's why I picked it," Louis snips. He chooses an old-fashioned goldfish, and Harry pushes himself off the counter to get it out of the tank for him. Using a net, he drops the fish carefully into a cylinder full of water, then puts a plastic lid with holes punched into it on the top. He picks up a box of fish feed and brings it all to the counter, Louis following him along the way. 

"Easy trip this time, huh?" He asks, and Louis lets out a sarcastic _ha ha_. 

"Hopefully I won't have to come back for a little while," he says, and Harry doesn't laugh. He doesn't say anything, in fact, because he likes Louis a lot and he doesn't like the idea of not seeing him for what's described as a "little while". 

Once Louis is all paid for and all set, Harry leans against the counter and asks him what he's going to name it. 

"Fish," Louis chirps, and Harry looks at him for a second. "I'm going to name it Fish." 

And it's a good thing a customer enters the store right then and Louis has to go, because Harry Styles comes terribly close to telling the blue-eyed boy that he loves him. 

***

A week later, Louis storms into the store dressed in a black sweater, black jeans and black slip-on shoes. Sitting upon his head is a black beanie, and he holds a small stone plaque in his hand. Harry lights up when he sees him, and doesn't even complain when he has to clean up the spilled display of diamond-studded dog collars (debris from Louis' Entrance) because he's delighted to have him in the store again. 

Louis, however, is gloomy and irritable. "I'm in mourning," he growls to Harry when the man accidentally bumps into him on his way to back behind the counter. "Can't you watch where you're going?" 

Harry cocks an eyebrow, but Louis doesn't apologise. He debates on whether saying something equally-as-rude or something concerned, and decides on neither: a cross between the two. 

"Eat some of Fish's food today on accident?" He inquires, and Louis' eyes become glassy. He sets the plaque on the counter so Harry can look at it, and what he sees makes him both sad and even more impossibly infatuated. 

IN LOVING MEMORY OF FISH THE FISH, reads the plaque, carefully engraved into the polished stone. 10/23/15: THE DAY HE WENT TO THE OCEAN IN THE SKY. 

(It would be _funny_ if the plaque wasn't so beautifully made and Louis wasn't so dreadfully sad.) 

"Oh, Louis, I'm sorry," Harry croons, coming out from behind the counter to give the gloomy boy a hug. It's a different hug this time than the last, a better hug, because Louis has the ability to wrap his arms around him and hold him close (what with how his arms aren't already housing a cat and all). Which he does, almost greedily, since this comfort is one that he's been waiting for. With a whimper that turns into a cry, Louis folds both hands behind Harry's neck, buries his face in his chest, and sobs. 

Harry, startled at such a violent reaction for, like, a fish, worriedly hugs him back. He can feel Louis' tears staining his shirt, and he swallows hard. With the pads of his fingertips, he strokes up and down his back, shushing him softly. He's blinking hard, trying not to cry while Louis does, but it's difficult, because Harry's thought of Louis as the happiest person on Earth ever since he first met him. Seeing and hearing him cry is like finding out that a low-fat blueberry muffin recipe you've been using for years is actually stuffed with calories. 

Louis isn't crying for Fish; he's crying because he feels hopeless. He cries for the time he's wasted trying to get along with these pets, he cries for Soot, he cries because he can't fathom his feelings for Harry and he cries because he knows that they're one-sided and always will be.

He cries because he really does just want a friend, and it's looking impossible for him now.

"It's okay, Lou," Harry says, continuing to rub up and down his back. "We'll find you something." 

Louis moves out of Harry's arms and wipes at his eyes, sniffling as he shakes his head. "No, Harry," he says, getting that disgusting feeling he does when he comes off as stupid. "It's dumb now. I'm just not a pet person, is all. I don't like pets and pets don't like me and..." 

Then he cries again, and he wishes he'd _stop_ because when he cries, it's an _ugly_ cry and Harry shouldn't have to see it, but then Harry's arms are around him again and they stay that way until he feels better and weak and tired and sad. 

"I'm okay," he tells Harry quietly, allowing the man to let go of him. "I'm fine." 

"We'll find you something," Harry says once more, looking stubborn. His lips are pouted a bit and there's a cute little crease between his eyebrows, like he's determined and focused. Louis sighs. He sighs because he's just realised that there's nothing he wants more than that little crease, those pouted lips and that stubborn, clumsy boy. There isn't a pet out there that'll work with him if he doesn't have those things. 

"What else are you looking for?" Harry asks, and Louis takes this chance to let it all out. He says what he'd just been thinking; he says that he wants a pet with green eyes and big paws and brown fur. He wants a clumsy pet that'll bark and bump into things a lot and he wants a pet that'll love him just as much as he loves it. 

"I want you," he adds finally, and this is when he knows that it's the last time he'll ever be in the store, for Harry looks down at his feet and doesn't say anything. 

Louis is about to turn around to leave when he sees a confusing expression on Harry's face, a cross between a scared grimace and constipation, and even though he's just ruined his chances with the boy he still needs to make sure he's breathing when he leaves, so he swallows and starts to speak. 

"Are you okay?" He asks, Harry looking up at the question. And he really does look a bit (lot) silly, with this wobbly smile and pained eyes, so Louis laughs. It's a small laugh, but it's a laugh (his light-as-air laugh, to be in fact) and then Harry's gross countenance melts away and he's left with a glowing smile: a different smile, a special smile, a where-the-fuck-did-someone-so-glorious-come-from sort of smile. It's beautiful and breathtaking, but Louis is still confused. 

"What was that?" He asks, thinking of how Harry had been looking a bit at war with himself with that weird face. Harry laughs, his laugh that Louis now thanks God for allowing him to have heard _three entire times_ , but he's still befuddled. 

"I was fighting off _the_ smile," he says, and Louis thinks, _oh, great, yes, that clears everything up_. 

" _The_ smile?" Louis echoes. 

" _The_ smile," Harry confirms. "The smile I get whenever you do something amazing or adorable or stupid or wonderful. It's the smile I first got when I realised I love you." 

Louis won't remember much about that part of his life; it's three seconds, after all. Three seconds of the nineteen years he's been on the Earth, seemingly unimportant and measly and stupid and short. They're not, though, those three seconds. They're the furthest thing from unimportant. For in those three seconds, in the time it took him to process what Harry'd said, he understands what it feels like to be genuinely happy, to have found the one person that you just _know_ you're going to finish the journey of your life with. This smiling idiot with the green eyes and beautiful soul is Louis' new everything, and those three seconds declare it. 

" _The_ smile," Louis finally says once more, and Harry smiles aforesaid smile. 

"Mmhm." 

" _The_ smile?" 

Harry's smile ( _the_ smile) lasts a little longer than a smile should, but he says yes anyway. Until Louis says it again. Then Harry looks annoyed. And when Louis says it yet again, Harry seems like he wants to smack him. 

" _The_ -" 

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me, you goddamned idiot," Harry snaps, and Louis is more than happy to oblige. He throws his arms around Harry and kisses him, kisses him _hard_ , the animals in the store falling silent. He's in love, he thinks, he's stupidly in love. What he also understands, however, by the way Harry holds him, tight and loving and needy, is that Harry is in love too. Being in love with the person who's in love with him is sweeter than anything Louis' ever imagined. (Even sweeter than Harry's Peptol-Bismol/cotton candy lips, although they taste much better than both those things.) 

And Louis has either gone crazy or the canaries begin to croon softly, the parakeets begin to sing and a myna bird yaps, "Kiss... kiss... kiss..." 

But that last part really happens, and Louis pulls back, startled. "How'd it know what we were doing?" He asks Harry, who slings an arm around his waist. He wants to squeal at the touch, but he refrains from doing so and settles on a little squeak. 

"The people who owned it before donating it to this store had a lot of sex, and myna birds say what they see and hear," Harry tells him bluntly, adding nothing more. 

"Oh," Louis says. 

And if you stood outside the pet store an hour later, with the sign declaring it as closed three hours before it was actually supposed to be, you just might hear the myna birds chanting in unison, "Sex... sex... sex..." 

But only if you were lucky.


End file.
